The Afflicted Ch. 06

"Our instructors were harsh, and they needed to be. Those were rough times with witch hunts still going on and the Black Guard just beginning to form. We needed to be tough and sharp, and we were.

"We also needed each other. I have no shame in saying I broke many hearts while I was there, Palo. I was ravenous for companionship. I slept with nearly every member of our class, often more than one at a time. I felt that it was my duty to welcome any new boys to the Academy in the proper way. Let's just say that in my five years I had a great deal of fun.

"I should mention that there was one student who I never shared myself with. His name was Tacito Fernandez and he was descended from Spanish nobility. His name didn't really matter, because we all simply called him the Weasel.

"The Weasel was by far the most unattractive man I have ever met. When I say unattractive, I don't mean physically. He was slim and of average hight. I suppose he was all right from a pure physical perspective, but once you met him his looks were quickly forgotten.

"None of the girls liked him. He tried seducing so many, but finally ended up settling on two of our class who were the most like him. There was Sanchia, a girl who had come from a poor family in Spain and was attracted by his mortal titles. The other girl was Kuzma, a Russian girl who the boys also couldn't stand. The three of them were among the few who stayed with regular partners, though not by choice. The irony was, The Weasel had very little in the way of gifts. He couldn't fly; he was physically weak for an Afflicted; his swordsmanship was so-so. The only gift he seemed to have was the power of persuasion over simpler minds."

"Is the Academy where you met Christophe, your bloodmate?" asked Palo.

"No," said Frederique, the first hint of sadness in her voice. "Though I tried to find someone, none of my wonderful classmates ever seemed quite right."

"By the time I left, I had learned to become quite the fighter. Aurelius Scaurus, the gladiator trainer from Capua was our sword master. I was a slow student at first, but then something clicked in my head and how I began to learn. I'll never forget the day I bested four of our strongest swordsmen by myself. Scaurus wrote me a letter of recommendation to anyone who wished to hire me as a fighter. So, I returned to Paris. I signed on as a Council guard. I continued to learn to fight from our finest fighters and swordsmen, including my mother. I spent another three years in the guard, again, taking many lovers. However, I still did not take a mate."

"Christophe came from the most surprising place. As I have told you, my father was a scientist and a collector. Shortly after my return to Paris, he became fascinated with clocks. He purchased every sort of clock he could find and began to study them. Any that were broken he would try to repair - and without much luck. Clock making, even then, was a fine art. He eventually sought out the help of the Compagnons, a society of tradesmen dedicated to furthering their craft. He found a young man, perhaps twenty-five or so, who had served his apprenticeship, been a journeyman, and was now toiling away in Paris. My father offered this young man some much needed cash to pay visits to our house at night and teach him some tricks of the trade. This young clockmaker's name was Christophe."

"A clockmaker? You fell in love with a clockmaker? A mortal clockmaker?"

"The heart goes where it wants to, my dear," said Frederique. "Speaking of, I must pay a little attention to the current owner of my heart."

They had been moving occasionally as she spoke, but now they took an intermission of sorts to pay attention to certain pressing matters. Frederique began moving slowly and up and down Palo's rigid shaft and as she moved he was able to lower his mouth to her large breasts and elicit moans of pleasure from her as he flicked a ready tongue across her ever-sensitive nipples.

Sooner than she expected, Frederique felt the tremor's begin. Pulling her husband close in to her chest, she gasped and cried out his name.

"Oh Palo," she squealed into his ear. "I've needed this so much today. Oh my god!"

She gasped again and involuntarily rolled her pelvis against him as the climax grew even larger. No longer capable of words, she moaned and pulled Palo to her even tighter. When the waves of pleasure subsided, she began riding him again, but he put his hands on her hips to stop her.

"No, not yet," he insisted. "I want to hear more of the story."

"Ooh, you do, my love? I must be quite the Scheherazade - I knew her, by the way."

"She was real?" asked Palo, surprised.

"Haven't I told you this? She was of the Afflicted. She was sent to distract King Shahryar. Of course she was never in any danger, but many details were true. If you notice in the tale, the king came to her at night. The Harem quarters were actually underground, built at Scheherazade's request. But, back to my story: Christophe the Clockmaker."

"I was still staying with my parents. As you well know, purchasing and financing a below-ground dwelling is quite expensive so I chose to wait for a while before getting my own. So, my father he hired this shy, handsome young clockmaker to come to teach him horology."

"Christophe and I began to talk, and from talking lead to more talking, and from more talking... well, you know how things go. Ironically, after bedding most of the available Afflicted men in Europe and having no luck in finding a mate, I was soon head over heels in love with Christophe, a mortal."

"The petition went easier than you would have expected. Christophe was intelligent, bright, and a very, very gentle spirit. Galen was chief medical inspector at the time and he declared Christophe one of the finest candidates he had ever seen for our kind. No danger whatsoever."

"So, we underwent the blood ceremony and I took him to mate. A few days later, his gift manifested itself. He was working on a clock. He had just put a highly complex mantle clock back together and realized that one gear was out of place. This meant disassembling the entire thing before he could get to the problem piece. At that moment he pondered whether he could manipulate the gears with his mind. He did. My Christophe's gift was that of a mechanic - he could look inside of anything and manipulate it. I saw him repair many clocks this way. He would look into the clock, the gears would shift slightly, and the gear in need of repair would float into the works, it would all reassemble, and the clock would be fixed. His way took seconds where a regular clockmaker would take hours. It was a beautiful and a terrible gift."

"Beautiful, I understand," said Palo, "but terrible, how so?"

"I will tell you a tale to illustrate. We were still young, still foolhardy. A year or so after we were married we decided to go out and have a good time with the mortals. We intentionally went to the worst neighborhood and the worst tavern in all of Paris. We got good and drunk, one thing led to another, and... well, we were just stupid. Next thing you know, I found myself pinned down by three men so strong that I couldn't even fly. Christophe was held down with a knife to his throat and a gang of twenty thugs was preparing to have their way with me.

"Ten seconds later, every person in the tavern except the two of us was dead"

"How?" asked Palo.

"Remember what I said. Christophe could manipulate inside of things. What is the human heart, but a simple pump made of flesh? What is the jugular vein, but a soft pipe which carries fluid? With frightening ease, Christophe reached in and killed each and every one of those men. He shattered this one's heart, snipped this one's carotid artery, caused the next to have an aneurism. All with the same ease you or I might make slicing a piece of bread."

"It left him quite shaken. Of course, we had to engage the Council to help us clean the scene. When they learned of Christophe's frightening power, a special committee was formed to decide whether someone so powerful should be allowed to live. Galen, the great physician, testified about Christophe's innate kindness. It was probably because of that very testimony that Christophe was allowed to live. The Council has put many of our kind to death over the years who had gifts so great and minds so unreliable that if they used their gifts it would reveal our kind."

"Other than that horrible incident, our time in Paris was beautiful. We had so many friends, saw so many things. Christophe continued fixing clocks and inventing. Oh Palo, he could come up with the most amazing things. Many of his creations were centuries before their time. We travelled often, celebrated life, and of course made love as often as we could.

"We talked about having children, but we always thought there was time."

"Then the first sign came. I still blame myself for not seeing it. I was visited by a friend of mine from the Academy, Bronwyn, a Welsh girl. She was so lovely and so bright. Her mate had been killed in a freak accident and she had decided to come to Paris. At around the same time, the Weasel arrived on the scene. He had been living somewhere in Russia and relocated to Paris. He was just as arrogant and repulsive as ever. He invited Bronwyn out one night, and after that she was absolutely infatuated with him. 'Tacito this' and 'Tacito that'. 'He really has changed, Frederique - you should join us for an evening of fun.'"

"I knew there was no way the Weasel and changed, so I ignored her requests and she soon ceased calling."

"As I say, in hindsight, I should have seen the signs. There were a number of mortals disappearing - too many to be coincidence or from simple mortal crimes. These disappearances were different. Usually, if an Afflicted has gone wild or rogue, there are telltale signs that Council investigators can find. Spots of blood... or our specialists can search the rivers and find bodies that no ordinary police could ever discover. There were none.

"There were other oddities: spouses acting curiously; people resigning positions; private parties where the people attending had little in common. As I say, all of the signs were easy to see in hindsight.

"At last, the truth came to light. One day, Galen came to call at our house. Dear, sweet, perceptive Galen. He came to our house by daylight - obviously he was enshrouded and wearing smoked spectacles - but that was the only way he could be sure he wasn't watched. He searched our house thoroughly to be sure no one was there. Once he was satisfied, he examined each of us - laying his hands on us and peering into our blood, into our systems.

Once he was sure we were secure. He told us the Weasel was building an army - a horrible, frightening army the likes of which had never been seen.

"We asked him how this could be possible, and he explained. Galen's hands were shaking; I can still see him today. The question had always been what Tacito's gift was.

"'It is binding', Galen explained. 'If someone is unfortunate enough to be infected with this man's blood, they will be bound to him eternally.'

"The Council Guard had brought a woman to Galen. She was a poor streetwalker, a mortal who had recently been turned to the Afflicted with no approval from anyone. Galen looked into her blood and saw Tacito's signs within her. Galen began to surreptitiously examine others and discovered at least ten people so marked in his first evening of looking."

"But how?" interrupted Palo. "How could he turn so many?"

"All he needed was the first few," explained Frederique, "He caught Bronwyn in an unguarded state and took her when her defenses were down. With her at his disposal, he could allow her to lure men to a room where he was hidden - and as the man was in the throes of passion, he would bite them. Tacito's binding was absolute. Once even a drop of his blood entered someone's system, their only thought was to serve him. His numbers grew rapidly. If he could infect a husband, he would soon have the wife. Once you had a couple, they could lure their friends, and so on.

"We knew we had to act quickly and began to set things in motion, though it required absolute secrecy and care because we had no idea of who we could trust or who might be turned. My father, Christophe, and Galen developed a machine that could detect in seconds if someone's blood was tainted by the Weasel. Any conversations we had required that both parties be tested.

"Then one day... then one day..."

Frederique trailed off, tears flowing from her eyes.

"Oh Palo, there is a reason I haven't told you all of this. Even now it hurts so. Please make love to me. I need to feel you inside of me, I need to become one with you for at least a little while. After that I will finish my tale."

Though Palo was anxious to discover the rest of Frederique's tale, he knew he must comply with her wishes. Lifting her and laying her gently onto the silky padded floor of their little love nest, he did just that.

At first, he lay on top of her and they made love tenderly. However, with those tender, tiny signs that lovers learn from each other she let him know she wanted to lift her legs higher. She moved her legs so they were pulled into her chest - a position which afforded Palo the deepest penetration with his massive tool, which was often too painful for Frederique. However, it seemed this was what she wanted this day and she groaned in the painful pleasure of surrender with each surge deep into her belly. Even this wasn't enough; however, for next she lifted her legs high and placed them above his shoulders - allowing him the deepest penetration possible.

She closed her eyes then, and let him push incredibly deeply into her. It seemed that was what she needed. She yearned for divine pain as a reminder of being 'here', in a place with a loved one far away from the events she had been recalling. When Palo cried out in ecstasy, she dropped her legs and pulled him tightly too her, crying out her love for him as he spilled into her.

When their hearts were done racing and their breath had returned, Frederique lay on her side and pulled Palo into her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and nestling into his strong body. Staring out like that, she began her tale once more.

"The plans proceeded well," she said in a low, hypnotic tone. "We gathered our forces as we were sure the Weasel was gathering his."

"One day..." and here Frederique hesitated once again, "One day, Christophe came to me and gave me a gift. It was a locket, a simple, round locket. You have seen it before - I wear it now and again. Christophe ordered me to always keep it on, no matter what the situation. The next day, it was decided that Christophe should be placed in a safe room - a place where only Remy, our most trusted friend, knew of. It was decided by all, Christophe included, that it was better to not use his Gift at all rather than risk his falling into enemy hands.

"There are a great many more details I could tell you - but I will get to the end of the tale and paint with broader strokes for now. Several days later, the war began. It was a full moon in Paris and Tacito's forces mounted their attack. We surprised them by being far more ready than anyone would have ever suspected and it seemed, at first, that we would triumph in short order.

"Then came the frightening turn. We had ordered Remy to stay with Christophe - but he grew too worried and came to join the battle. Remy, a deplaceur, was taken and once he was bound to The Weasel, he took them to Christophe.

"Where we had nearly won, the tide turned with frightening rapidity. Christophe was bound to the Weasel and all he needed to do was gain one view of a fighter and they would fall down dead with their heart stopped or a cord in their brain snapped. Even worse, the Weasel's forces captured nearly every deplaceur and day was approaching. We knew that if we did not defeat them before sunrise, we would surely fall. They had many mortal allies and they would be able to enter any building below and carry on the battle in daylight.

"My father fell first. He had devised a shield which covered him from view, but he turned one bit too far and Christophe felled him.

"I have told you of my mother's prowess, and do not doubt it because the fight she gave that night was unlike any ever witnessed on this earth. Not only did she put her sword to use, she also flew so quickly, never pausing, that no one could discern more than a blur.

"I will not lie - I was not far behind her in regard to the skill I showed that evening. My sword arm was lightning; my flying was swifter than a hurricane wind. My mother and I cut a swath through their ranks and were making our way toward Notre Dame where the Weasel had established his stronghold. Then, fate turned against my mother and six fliers blocked her path at the same moment. Just a single instant was all that Christophe needed. I can still see the life leaving my mother's face and her body falling from the sky.

"When my mother fell, I was also paralyzed. I hung there, motionless in the air in plain sight. I can still see Christophe's eyes staring at me with hatred from the front steps of the cathedral. Though I could not hear the words, the Weasel was cursing at him to finish me. Though it appeared he was trying, Christophe's gift was having no effect on me.

"My mother and father were gone. My husband was turned by wicked blood into a mortal enemy. I had nothing to lose. Palo, if God does smile on our kind, he surely did that night. My blade found every heart and blocked every blow. A hundred of the finest fighters of every ability threw their full force against me, and still I didn't fall. As I was fighting in the air, I suddenly saw a path straight to the Weasel - I flew through the gathered Afflicted with such speed that there was no stopping me.

"There was something else that couldn't be stopped. My dear Christophe, now bound to the Weasel, saw me coming and he jumped in front of his 'master'. It made no matter, my sword pierced both of their hearts. I never looked again upon the villain who nearly destroyed our kind except to slash off his head to assure he could never return. "

"My husband, however, I held in my lap as he gasped out his final breaths. "

"As I held him, his eyes looked at me with a mix of hatred for the woman who had killed his master - and confusion at the memories of his love for me. The last thing he did was to reveal his secret. He lifted his hand to my locket and smiled. It was the same smile I had seen countless times when he finished repairing a difficult clock, or creating a new one.

"'It worked', was all he said."

"You see, Palo, he had known. He had known that he might be turned, and as one final invention, my marvelous clockmaker had created a device which somehow protected me from his frightening gift. That tiny locket generated a field around me which his mind could not penetrate.

"Without a leader and without the weapon of Christophe, Tacito's ranks quickly folded. I killed thirty more and I had to be dragged away, even as the rising sun was burning my face.

"We met in the tunnels below that great cathedral, licking our wounds as we sat on the tombs of saints and kings. Luckily, we still had the devices for detecting those who were still bound to the Weasel - so we knew we could find them out eventually.

"That meant nothing to me, however. The surviving leaders realized that there was no way I could be safe for any time in the foreseeable future. The victims of the Weasel were not bound by some magical spell that dissipated upon their master's death. They were bound by blood - Tacito's bite meant eternal love and loyalty for that despicable man.